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Happy Adoption Anniversary, Sweetie! It’s been eight years since we were declared your forever parents; the ones who would walk you through the rough times and celebrate with you in the good ones.

There has been some rough times, hasn’t there? There has also been some incredible times. I know this. You do, too.

I watch you. I see the way you watch my every move, as well. There is great pressure raising a girl in this world; raising one who is strong enough to be fierce when it matters and soft enough to be empathetic when no one else will. Well, I’m here to proclaim that you are both of these things. You’re fierce when you need to be and you are soft when it is necessary. (Although, Mommy wishes you were a little more soft with me…especially when our shared strong-wills clash.)

It’s different raising a daughter. Not bad, just different. Us girls are complicated. We feel every ounce of emotion that enters our psyches. We over think and overthink until our brains are just done. We love big and we grieve big. Often, we are our worse critics.

It’s because of this that I want to tell you to never underestimate yourself. Allow those strong emotions to come but do so in a way that will always respect yourself and those in your life who matter. Don’t stop grieving for the homeless and others who are in a bad place. That kind of empathy may not be rewarded on this Earth, but I believe it will be in Heaven.

Stick to your guns. Stand up for what you believe in. Don’t shy away from expressing your opinion (even when it’s not how others think you should feel). Don’t give yourself away; to a job, to men, to anyone. It’s hard to get yourself back once you do.

You, by far, have challenged me more than your brothers. However, you, by far, have taught me more about myself and about this parenting life. You question everything. I mean EVERYTHING. Don’t stop doing that.

You leave me nearly exhausted each day but you also give me the gumption to get up at each new dawn and try harder. This, sweetie. This is what it is like to watch your heart dance and prance around in the form of a little girl. This is both challenging and incredible all at the same time.

It’s been eight years since the Judge declared you to be our forever daughter; although you were always “ours” from the minute you were brought to our home. I need you to know that I’m constantly thinking of you. I’m constantly considering how I can make a positive impact in your life and how I can protect you from the harshness of this world.

Yes, it’s been eight years since the Judge declared you to be ours forever, but to me, time is sifting by at too quick of a pace. If there is anything I can teach you, it is this.

What you are right now is not who you will be in the future. You will grow and stretch and sometimes, it won’t feel good, but it will be good for you. Life is neither easy or hard. It is both at the same time.

There will be times when you feel less than the girl sitting next to you. There will be other times when you feel that you can climb the highest of mountains with ease. Both are relevant, but both are fleeting.

No matter what, always remember that as much as we love you, you have a Heavenly Father who loves you more. Our love will never compare to His. While we are your parents, you belong to Him. He knew you before we did. He knew you when you were in your birth mother’s womb. He was present when you were born. (We were not and that is something that has always grieved my own heart.) You are wanted and you are cherished by us and by the Lord. Don’t ever forget that.

It’s been eight years since the Judge declared us as your forever parents; eight years of laughter and tears. Eight years of talking-back and saying “I’m sorry”. I literally cannot imagine my life without you. These years seem to have come and gone so fast.

Eight years from now…well…I don’t even want to think about that, yet.

Happy Adoption Anniversary, Sweetie.

We love you.

We always have.

We always will.

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I remember it as if it happened yesterday. After our adoption of our daughter in 2010, family and friends gathered a local Starbucks to celebrate. It was obvious that we were a happy bunch by the joy and laughter going on.

The barista behind the counter asked, “Are you celebrating something?” I said, “Yes. We just adopted our second child.” He then said, “That’s great. Are you going to have children of your own, too?”

I responded with, “Our children are our own.” “Oh,” he said. “Well, congratulations.”

I always try to give people the benefit of the doubt when it comes to questions about foster care, adoption, and infertility. I really do. I’ve heard some doozies over the course of my lifetime of barrenness; ones that just ripped right into my heart. Yet, I try my best to respond in a manner that is both respectful and educational. After all, if we (foster/adoptive parents) want respect, we need to show it. Plus, knowledge really is a powerful tool in helping to expand someone’s worldview.

Children who enter our lives, often through the tragedy of brokenness, are not replacements or an after-thought. These precious souls are each born with their unique talents, challenges, and personalities. Their histories are sometimes scarred but their futures are limitless. The tapestries of their lives are weaved with love, loss and that incredibly soul-inspiring notion that there is always hope.

Adoption is beautiful and heart-breaking. It is humbling and faith-building. It is joy and laughter and tears all wrapped up in one. It is a whole lot of things but it will never be second-best. It is the path to parenthood that many families facing infertility choose to walk down. It is a choice. It is not easy and can be wrought with many unknowns. Yet, each step is padded with the firm belief that adoption is a distinguished road not for the faint-of-heart but for the faithful one.

When following the command to care for orphans and the least-of-these, we should also look in the mirror and know that we, too, were orphans. The Lord said, “I chose you”. Not only are we chosen, we are cherished and known to our Father in Heaven. I believe that Jesus had you and me on His mind when He carried that burdensome cross up the hill towards our salvation. If I thought for one minute that adoption is second-best, I fear the glory and humbling essence of belonging to our Heavenly Father would be trivialized.

But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. -Galatians 4:4-5

Each child in need of adoption is a treasure to the Lord; worth more than gold or the greatest riches on Earth. To Him, they are not second-best. When I look into the eyes of my children, I do not see a secondary option. No. I see a longing fulfilled, redemption and the scripting of life without the borders that humans like to establish. I see children who are worth it.

Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. -Luke 12:7

Is adoption second best to having a biological child? I don’t think so. Instead, I believe that adoption is a predestination lovingly anointed with the mystery and power of the Lord. When I hear people comment about adoption being less than giving birth to a child or just a fallback plan, I cringe. Friends, these thoughts are the whispers of the enemy trying to sabotage what our Father holds so dear. The Enemy wants to destroy families. He wants to bind children. He wants to remind us of our own loss. He wants to complicate the calling on our lives to care for orphans.

However, the voice of the Lord is stronger and more powerful. He calls us upon the seas. He asks us to tread where others fear to go. He seeks the willing. He equips the courageous. He does this in the name of love. If we believe in this, then how can we ever accept adoption as second best?

To the hipster dude at Starbucks, it’s okay. I’ve long forgiven you for questioning whether I would have my “own” children. Just know that my children – the ones who the Lord declared and prepared for my life – are mine. They are not second-best. They never have been. They never will be.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. -Psalm 139:13-16

Note: This was written as a guest post featured on the blog, Mess Into a Message Blog and can be viewed there along with other thought-provoking posts by the author of “Mess Into a Message”.

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Right outside the main gate of Ancient Ephesus, there was a hill that acted as a – for lack of a better word – “baby dump.” It was a pagan society and when an unwanted baby was born, it was dumped up on the hill and left to die. Archeologists have found that often times these babies had deformities – or what our current culture would label, “special needs.” And other times, the child was just unplanned or unwanted. Ephesus also operated with a mindset that required you to live up to a certain standard…to look and act a certain way…beauty = worth. Therefore, if you birthed a baby with special needs, there was a lot of pressure and judgment placed on you.

Sound at all familiar?

With this evil and utterly disgusting practice in Ephesus, ancient writings suggest that early Christians would head up that hill to rescue the babies who were left to die and to adopt them as their own.

Isn’t that a beautiful image amongst a gruesome scene?

Now, I am no Bible scholar and I don’t know much more than that about the background of Ephesus during that time…(a friend and pastor at our local church shared all of that with me) but can you imagine what the culture must have thought? If they witnessed these early Christians trekking up that hill to rescue these “unwanted” children? They must have thought they were crazy. Why would they choose a hard, “against-the-grain” life by seeking after these children and choosing to make them their own?

I often feel that way as a foster parent. Many people don’t “get it.” They don’t get WHY we became foster parents. WHY we choose hard. WHY we would choose to welcome a child that required over 40 medical appointments in his first 8 weeks of life… Or simply why we would choose to sacrifice our time, our resources, our family dynamic for the “mess” of another’s.

Our culture often doesn’t “get” why an expecting family chooses to carry out the pregnancy they’ve been told will result in a still-born baby. WHY the expecting family chooses to bring their baby, diagnosed with Down’s syndrome, into the world when they learned of the diagnosis with plenty of time to terminate. WHY the comfortable family pays $40,000 to head to China to adopt a special needs child. WHY the foster family adopts a sibling group of 5 with trauma backgrounds that will lead them into endless amounts of therapy.

Why?

Because we were once a needy, blemished child on that hill crying out to be rescued. Our Savior heard our cries, and He climbed that hill to come get us.

In Acts, after Pentecost, Peter and John – filled with the Holy Spirit – proclaim the gospel and teach about Jesus’ resurrection. They heal a crippled man proclaiming to have done it in the name of Jesus. The rulers, elders, and scribes were astonished…they recognized they had been with Jesus…but they wanted them gone because they were afraid of losing their power or influence. They talked with each other and said, “What shall we do with these men?” (Acts 4:16)

They witnessed miracles in the name of Jesus but they didn’t like it. They didn’t want it to be true…it didn’t ﬁt with their culture or nicely into their standard boxes. Peter and John’s boldness threatened their lifestyle. These “Jesus people” were proclaiming to do things in the name of Jesus? With his help and power? What!? Well, that’s just uncomfortable.

Our culture and society today are often uncomfortable with this same boldness. In a world that strives for comfort, the “American dream,” biological children FIRST, adoption as a last resort, “my body, my choice,” and any other comfort inducing mindset…the idea of choosing the hard, choosing to live “against-the-grain” of what is typically acceptable, choosing to love sacriﬁcially like Jesus…is well, uncomfortable and not ideal.

Might we stand against this societal strive for comfort and be people that our society and our culture “doesn’t know what to do with.” Might we proclaim the Gospel in word and deed.

Might we make our local foster care agency not know what to do with us as we step into the muck of foster care and love birth families beyond what makes sense.

Might we make our world around us scratch their heads and not know what to do with us as we literally go to the ends of the earth to willingly adopt the “unwanted.”

Might we make doctors and nurses scratch their heads and not know what do with us as we turn down their offensive oﬀer to terminate and instead lovingly and excitedly choose to carry our special needs child to term and deliver them into this world.

Might we be the people headed up the hill to rescue the blemished children in the name of Jesus and by the power of His Spirit…knowing ourselves what it feels like to be rescued and adopted as sons through Jesus Christ (Acts 1:5).

Might we do none of these things out of charity, but out of love for Jesus.

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I wish I could tell you that it is “easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy” (as my 5-yr-old likes to say) to parent children who have been adopted or to be a foster parent. I’d love to say that once a child enters your home either for foster care or adoption, all problems go away and it’s just downhill and smooth-sailing from there. It would be fantastic for me to declare that I never second-guess myself and that we are all about lollipops, rainbows, and laughter. However, if I were to say any of these things, my words would be false. They would not bear a truthful witness to what it is to be a parent through adoption.

A few months ago, I started praying/speaking these words to God, “What do you want me to do with my life?” “What do you want from me?” One morning while praying, I heard the words, “BE BOLD.” A little startled at the immediate response, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“BE BOLD.” The words were clear, concise and not complicated.

Several months have passed and to be honest, I just kind of ignored this answer. I know the Lord told me to be bold but it was just too simple of a declaration. I am a detail-oriented person and the two-word response to my prayer just didn’t cut it.

With the dawning of a New Year, the Lord’s answer of “Be bold” has never strayed too far from my mind. I wonder, friend, if His words are not only meant for my ears but also for yours.

For prospective foster and adoptive families, you need to know that being bold is imperative. It’s more than just declaring an injustice in what you are witnessing. It requires a stillness of faith AND a movement of courage.

Being bold, in the sight of others who do not understand, is necessary.

When you are asked, “Why in the world would you want to do that?”, be bold.

When people say to you, “I would never subject my own kids to that”, be bold.

When you are quivering in fear over what is going to happen with a child you love, be bold.

When you have the opportunity to love on biological parents, please, by all means, be bold.

Foster parenting and adoption both have this funny way of knocking people to their knees. We fall down time and again, but we get up. We wonder what we are doing and why in the heck are we doing it, but we keep on. In the face of many obstacles and trials, we stand up. We are bold.

When parenting children who come from extremely difficult situations, we learn of our own blessings and our own stumbling blocks. Their histories collide with ours and we realize how different life could have been for us if we were handed down the same hardships these children have been dealt.

I know the saying of “What would happen if you weren’t afraid?” It’s fine and everything but I like this version better: “What would happen if you were bold?”

Since we have such a hope, we are very bold… -2nd Corinthians 3:12

How could your courage and boldness literally change the course of a child’s or adult’s life?

What would your boldness show to children who look up to you?

How could you make an eternal difference for someone?

What if you took that darned thing called infertility, grabbed it by the neck and said, “No. I’m not going down that way”?

What if you become a foster parent and take in kiddos that absolutely soak up your love and attention?

What if you step outside of your preconceived comfort zone and foster a large sibling group, older youth or ones with special needs?

What could happen if you decide tomorrow to wake up declaring that boldness is the only way to live?

We are well on our way into 2018. We don’t know what we will have to face or overcome as the year unfolds but let’s live this year with a boldness that leaves an impression.

Shine your light, friends.

In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. – Matthew 5:16

If you are considering foster care or adoption, my wish is that fear would not stop you. It isn’t easy, but it is so worth.

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The is a great need for families to foster and adopt older youth. It is a constant challenge that those of us in child welfare deal with. During various recruitment events and other types of meetings, we often speak about how long too many kiddos, age 12+, are lingering in the system. The challenge is to get people to understand that older youth in the system are just as “adoptable” as young children.

I get it. My husband and I fostered infants. This was our desire. There’s nothing wrong with it. It still fulfills a need. However, as we get older and as our children age, IF we were to ever foster again or adopt, we would absolutely consider older youth.

Could YOU adopt a teen? Maybe so. Here’s an article I wrote for Adoption.com regarding this very subject. Click this link to read more: Could YOU adopt a teen?

Blessings,

Caroline

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It’s no surprise that doctors tend to get a lot of affirmation for their life-saving precision when it comes to surgery. The doctor who performed my surgery reluctantly received plenty of attention for saving my life. My case and the way he performed my hysterectomy have been studied both abroad and at home. He chose to take on the surgery (first of its kind) knowing the risks at hand. Even his wife knew of the concerns. She called her friends and they gathered to hold a prayer vigil while he was performing the surgery.

I still have him as my doctor and see him often. I can call him anytime I need something – day or night. He and his wife came to our adoption celebrations. We’ve exchanged Christmas cards and shared food together. Our families have stayed friends through the years and he knows that I hold no bitterness towards him or the Lord. Even still, he gets a bit weepy when we talk about my surgery. It absolutely impacted his life.

The reality is that it was not just his expertise and his hands that saved my life. There were many nurses who walked through that terrible sadness of my illness; yet, they did not receive the same type of attention and they did not get to watch me grow up and eventually become a mother.

To the nurses who worked the pediatric floor at the formerly called St. John’s Hospital in Springfield, Missouri and who had a hand in saving my life in 1983, thank you.

Thank you for carrying my family through a horrible ordeal. Thank you for holding my mother up while she nearly collapsed from the news and for offering my dad extra blankets at night because he just couldn’t leave. Thank you for wiping away tears, caressing my hands and speaking words of encouragement into my ears.

Thank you for holding my body down while the needles were sliding in and out of my veins. I knew it needed to happen and you did, too. Thank you for checking in on me all of the time and showing the utmost professionalism with the full measure of tenderness. Thank you for sneaking a friend onto the floor (even though it was against hospital policy).

Thank you for seeking my parents out to offer assurance that I was receiving the best care and for being goofy, smiling a lot and cheering my recovery. Thank you for putting up with my smarty-pants antics when you couldn’t figure out what was wrong with my IV machine but I could (and I told you how to fix it). Thank you for holding each other accountable.

I’ve often thought about the nurses on the pediatric floor who tended to my needs. Without them, I know my experience in the hospital could have gone a lot different. Even though it was a traumatic time, the love received absolutely made an incredible impact on my healing.

Nurses deal with anger, confusion, grief, sickness, bodily fluids, weeping parents and screaming patients on any given day. They are comforters, counselors, scientists, and mentors. They are teachers, advice givers, and hand-holders.

They intentionally walk into the trenches of sickness and trauma, sometimes even at their own risk. They put up with bureaucracy, policies, and politics and do so with their patients on their minds. Nurses do not get enough credit for the life-affirming and hope-dealing job that they do.

To the nurses who had a hand in saving my life in 1983 and to all of the nurses out there, thank you.

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About Me

Hello, friend! My name is Caroline. I'm a wife and mother of three children. In 1983, at the age of eleven, I became gravely ill and ended up needing an emergency hysterectomy. I am blessed by the adoption of my children and have great peace with my "lot in life".
I am deeply passionate about encouraging others struggling with infertility and about advocacy for foster care (two of our kids were adopted out of foster care). I no longer consider myself barren. I consider myself fruitful, joyful, whole and blessed.